


By Your Leave

by FightingForms



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftercare, D/s, Hair-pulling, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Two Tops/One Sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FightingForms/pseuds/FightingForms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is interested in exploring kinks Washington can't help him with. Washington eventually agrees to reach out to Benedict Arnold, and the two of them help Ben negotiate kink in various ways while learning more about their own limits and desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Your Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Turn Kink Meme prompt here: http://turn-kink.livejournal.com/799.html?thread=58911#t58911  
> and edited slightly (a03's editing features=joy. Typos no more, I hope!).

Washington knew that Ben worshipped Benedict Arnold; all the young men told stories of his bravery around the campfire. It had never mattered, because Washington knew that no matter how much Ben admired Arnold, he esteemed Washington more. 

Washington had also been Ben’s first, an experience he was certain would leave a mark on Ben even were he to take other lovers far, far in the future. He was also certain that the mark he left would be a good one. He’d been gentle with Ben—he couldn’t really imagine being anything but, even when Ben took the initiative to tease him to the point of frustration—and praised him every step of the way. Ben lapped it up; while he still blushed fiercely whenever Washington praised his skill, his eyes always shone bright. Washington thought he might very well be addicted to the looks Ben gave him.

Which was why it was an unwelcome surprise to discover that Arnold could make Ben flush in a similar way just by ordering him about. 

Washington had been about to enter Arnold’s tent when he heard the man bark “Major Tallmadge. You have not been dismissed.”

Washington entered, prepared to sooth feathers, only to see Ben flush and hear him sounding more contrite than he had ever heard him. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Arnold warned, making Ben blush even deeper, and then deeper still when he saw Washington.

Washington felt his nostrils flare and forced himself to regain enough control to both look and sound calm. “Is there a problem?”

“Discipline,” Arnold said, and Washington observed Ben’s slight shiver. “This one seems to believe ‘Major’ outranks ‘General.’ He’ll make a fine aide-de-camp once I put him through his paces, though.”

“Aide-de-camp?” Washington questioned. This was the first he was hearing of it.

Arnold looked between Washington’s impassive face and Ben’s chagrined one and whistled. “He assured me that he could work for me and it would not interfere with the work he did for you. I assumed,” and here he snorted, “that he had already sought your permission. Given his apparent belief that orders and the rank structure are optional, however, I should not be surprised that you were unaware of this.”

“That is unfair, sir,” Ben said hotly. “I am well aware of rank and the importance of orders, but I am used to having a fair amount of discretion.”

“Clearly,” Arnold remarked. “Your Excellency?”

“Major Tallmadge does enjoy a fair amount of discretion in my service, General Arnold,” Washington said, but couldn’t help adding “However, he should have consulted me ere he took this course.”

Ben, who had looked at elated at Washington’s defense of him, looked down. Washington knew he hated disappointing him, that it was worse than any reprimand he could give. 

Arnold looked between them, considering, but wisely said nothing other than “So will he be my aide-de-camp, or no?”

Though his baser instincts were screaming “No,” Washington said yes. He was certain that Ben could perform both jobs well, and that he must have a reason (other than lust) for wanting to serve Arnold. 

“Very well, then,” Arnold said to Washington before turning to Ben. “Tallmadge. You are still welcome to the position, but be advised that I will not give you the same type of discretion General Washington deems fit to give you. Disobey me or show me disrespect and I will punish you, understand?”

Ben nodded, looking to Washington as though he was prepared to get down on his knees there and then. 

“A verbal response, Tallmadge,” Arnold ordered.

Washington thought Ben would balk at that, even if he hadn’t at all of the other high-handedness. But no. Ben stared Arnold down and gave him a confident “Yes, sir. You’ll punish me if I disobey or disrespect you. Sir.”

Arnold nodded approvingly. “Very good. I will see you in the morning. And now you’re dismissed, Tallmadge.”

Ben bowed to both of them and prepared to leave, only to be stopped by Washington. “I have not yet dismissed you, Major. There are things I would discuss with you.”

Ben nodded, and his naturally open face could not conceal his surprise at the order. Washington had never required that he remain until formally dismissed.

“General Arnold. I will return and speak to you later. Major Tallmadge, with me,” Washington ordered.

They walked in silence to Washington’s tent, though Washington was well aware of the furtive glances Ben kept shooting him.

“Did you enjoy that?” Washington asked him when they had the tent to themselves.

“Enjoy what, sir?” 

“When I told you that you were not yet dismissed and ordered you to accompany me.”

Ben looked puzzled. It was going to be harder to discuss this than Washington had thought. Of course the boy didn’t quite understand about pain and pleasure, or people who thrilled to command or be commanded in the bedroom, even though he appeared to be a natural. Washington had a mild interest in the pain-free parts of dominance himself and had certainly given Ben an order or two in Bed, but he hadn't discussed how such things could work, and would not have had Ben not had such a reaction to Arnold. Still, clearly Ben hadn’t really understood what was happening, hadn’t been flirting with Arnold intentionally. 

“Ben,” Washington started more gently, slightly ashamed that he had given Ben orders out of jealousy. “Did you enjoy being commanded by me? Did it give you pleasure, put you in mind of what we do together in the evening?”

“No, sir,” Ben said, slightly flustered. He looked down, thinking. “Under different circumstances it might, but I really thought you were angry with me. Are you?”

Washington shook his head and drew Ben into an embrace. “No. But General Arnold was correct. It seems there are things I have neglected to teach you.”

“Discipline?” asked Ben, both eyebrows reaching toward his hairline.

Washington did not bother to check his laugh. “Yes, discipline,” he said, giving Ben a light swat on the bottom in response to his scowl. “Though not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what—“ Ben broke in.

Washington smiled again, imagining Arnold’s response to Ben’s habit of interrupting. “I don’t mean refusing to allow you to, say, interrupt me,” he said, noting Ben’s guiltily bitten lip. “Or preventing you from speaking your mind and using your discretion when it comes to orders. And you know well enough that I cannot be bothered with having you follow protocol when it comes to dismissal. No. ‘Discipline’ the way I’m using it here means finding joy in serving, in obedience, and possibly even enjoyment in being corrected.”

“I do enjoy serving you, even though I’m not always obedient,” Ben admitted.

“I know, Ben, and believe me, I enjoy your service. But would you enjoy being corrected? If I were to take a strap to you for taking the position with Arnold without consulting me?”

Washington could see Ben’s pulse jump in his throat, but his answer was no. “No sir, I wouldn’t enjoy being punished for something you were actually angry with me for doing, though I would of course accept it.”

Of course Ben would. Washington was his commander, something he’d been careful not to abuse in their entire relationship, making sure that everything they did was truly desired. “And what if you were not being punished for a serious offense? If we’d agreed that you would refuse to ask Brewster to shave and I’d take you over my knee for disobeying me?”

Ben’s breathing deepened as he regarded Washington for a long moment. “I…..thank you, sir, but I couldn’t. You…I know you would, and that you would be excellent, but I also know that you wouldn’t truly enjoy it. I would need….I would want it to be harsh, and I don’t believe you would desire the same.”

Washington nodded, some of his jealousy returning. Washington would not be that harsh with Ben, ever. He knew that Arnold, however, would. And Ben likely knew it too. 

“No, I do not desire the same,” Washington confirmed, reaching out and taking hold of Ben by his braid. “This is about as much pain as I will ever intentionally inflict on you,” he said and pulled, making Ben gasp and his eyes well up with tears. 

He kissed Ben hard, swallowing his gasp, then kissed his way down Ben’s exposed throat before releasing him. 

Ben faced him, eyes full of desire even as his tears threatened to spill over. 

“Blink,” Washington ordered him gently, and the tears fell.

They were beautiful. Ben was beautiful, red-faced and teary-eyed and ready to do whatever Washington commanded. 

Compelling though the picture was, Washington felt uncomfortable being the cause of it, preferring pain-free pleasure and the hours of bliss they’d spent exploring one another. He smiled sadly, and took a step back. “I would give you that much, when you needed it, and teach you what I know about the joys of discipline in the bedroom when you desired it, but beyond that I could not go. If you find that you would not be content with that, and you need someone who would be willing to do more than give you a few slaps on the bottom and pull your hair, then I think we both know who you should turn to.”

“Not without you,” Ben said firmly. “And not at the cost of you.”

“You would like me to chaperone you with Arnold?” Washington asked flatly.

“No, sir,” Ben said, struggling to find the words. “If I were to do anything with General Arnold, I would want you to be a part of it. Maybe not to take part in any discipline, but certainly to go to bed with me after. And I don’t want any of it if it means I can’t be with you. I wouldn’t choose a strapping over you, sir.”

“Well, I must say that it is good to hear that you prefer me to the possibility of a bruised bottom,” Washington commented dryly. “Only for you would I even contemplate sharing, and I’m not certain how often I would allow it to happen.”

Ben drew him into an embrace. “Thank you, sir,” he said, trusting his body to tell Washington what his words couldn’t.

After a long moment, Ben drew back. “We don’t know that General Arnold would even agree to this, though,” he observed.

Washington looked heavenward. “Oh, my dear, naïve boy. General Arnold was ready to take you the moment he saw you. He was probably ready to strap you shortly thereafter.”

Ben affected a scowl, but couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll probably get it tomorrow for failing to salute him properly in the morning.”

“He wouldn’t, not without my permission.”

Ben knew he was pushing, but couldn’t help asking “Do you think you’ll give it to him?”

Washington was silent for some time before responding “If you want me to, yes. And I will revoke it at any point, and stop him from doing whatever it is he’s doing if I think you’ve had enough.

“Yes, sir,” Ben said. 

“You know that he’ll enjoy spanking you for his pleasure and yours, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that he is much more strict about protocol and obedience than I am. When I speak to him, what shall I tell him about punishing you when pleasure is not the goal?”

Ben bit his lip. “I wouldn’t enjoy being punished like that, but I would prefer it to a fine, or being assigned desk duty. Or having to kneel in the corner,” he said, glaring at Washington at the last one. 

“You would have preferred that I whip you rather than spend an hour in the corner?” Washington asked skeptically.

Ben considered. “No, actually, I wouldn’t have preferred that with you….in fact, it would have been mortifying, knowing how you feel about causing me pain. If you felt you’d had to whip me despite how much you hated it, I would have felt like dying. But it wouldn’t be as hard for Arnold to actually punish me that way, I don’t think, and given that, it would be preferable. Does that make sense?”

“It does, oddly enough. However, I will still have final say over any punishments. So if I decide you’re going into the corner instead of bending over, that’s the way it will be. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Now can we please discuss something other than punishment? You’re acting like it’s inevitable.”

Washington gave him a look.

Ben sighed. “Yes, well, that doesn’t mean we need to keep talking about it. You’ve been on horseback much of the day…why don’t you let me give you a massage?”

Washington allowed Ben to drop the subject and get to work. He truly did have a way with his hands, and Washington looked forward to returning the favor and then getting creative with the oil. Ben looked absolutely divine when he was being massaged—and then taken—by candlelight, muscles slick and gleaming. 

Washington had resolved to go speak to Arnold the next day about both Ben and strategy, but Arnold beat him to it, entering his tent in the early hours.

Luckily, Ben was always dressed whenever company could be expected and Billy Lee always had an excuse for why Ben had needed to spend the night on the occasions that he was able to do so. However, they did not fool Arnold.

Arnold took in the sight of Ben’s proximity to Washington calmly, a tightly clenched jaw the only sign of his jealousy. He quickly turned away from Ben as much as he could and addressed Washington. “I know you have….other matters taking your attention, General, but you did say that you would return to my tent to speak with me. I waited the entire evening when I could have gone out.”

“Apologies, General Arnold. I was going to see you about that, and about Ben—“

“Who should have been waiting at my tent half an hour ago. I’ve a mind—“

“Yes, about what you have a mind to do, Benedict. I’m not sure you’d be surprised to find that Ben would welcome whatever it is that you are threatening.”

At that, Arnold’s jaw came close to dropping and Ben wanted to dive under the desk, but held Arnold’s suddenly searching gaze without flinching or looking away.

“I don’t share,” Arnold said, at last.

“And you think I do?” Washington asked, projecting the quiet authority that had made him commander of the Continental Army. “He has needs that you would enjoy taking care of that I would rather not. However, he needs me, too. And I need him.”

Arnold looked between them, sensing their determination to remain together as well as Ben’s very obvious interest in him, and took a seat on the bed. “Very well. Tell me what it is you have in mind.”

Which is how it happened that a few days later, before they had had a chance to experiment with their dynamic in a small way, Ben and Arnold had ratcheted the tension between them to the point where Ben was desperate to be spanked and Arnold was only too eager to redden his bottom for him. 

Both Arnold and Washington had stressed that Ben would be well warned if he was in danger of receiving a real punishment, and that only needlessly endangering himself or the mission would result in a true punishment without a warning. 

Ben knew, therefore, when Arnold told him with a glint in his eye that he was skating on thin ice for failing to address him as “General Arnold,” that he wasn’t going to be truly punished, though having Arnold threaten him for actual lapses lent their play an extra edge that sent shivers down his spine.

What pushed Arnold over the line from threatening to planning Ben’s first spanking was Ben receiving a note in Arnold’s tent and striding off without so much as a by-your-leave. Arnold was annoyed, of course, but not truly angry. He had known Ben would do such things when he had taken him on. He was not even entirely certain that he wanted to break Ben of the habit, as it provided him with the perfect excuse to bend Ben over.

After several hours of working and waiting for Ben to return, Arnold marched over to Washington’s tent to lie in wait.

Ben arrived at the tent several hours after Arnold’s arrival and startled when he saw him there looking over maps with Washington.

“Sirs, I was just—“

“Where were you?” he was asked by the two of them, one sounding matter-of-fact while the other sounded just short of murderous.

“Learning to pilot the…something,” Ben explained, aware that it wouldn’t be explanation enough for Arnold.

“Your secret work?” Arnold asked, striding over to Ben.

“Yes,” Ben said. “I didn’t just leave you to take a walk in the woods, sir. I received an urgent note and—“

“You may save it for the report you’ll no doubt make to General Washington. Even though you did leave to work, you were surely aware that you should have asked my permission before departing and given me a general idea of when you would be back? I’m sure I informed you of my expectations and the consequences should you fail to meet them.”

“Yes, sir. I just didn’t think,” Ben said, blinking up at Arnold in anticipation.

“Well, what I’m about to give you should teach you to think more carefully in the future,” Arnold informed him sternly. “Though I’m sure that you will need repeated instruction and I can tell that I’m going to enjoy this already, “ he said, taking in Ben’s bitten lip and dilated pupils.

Ben hesitated, more for show than from real concern. It was clear that this wasn’t a “real” punishment—though he was certain Arnold would actually appreciate it if he started asking permission before haring off on a mission—but at the same time, it looked like they were starting fairly heavy. What if he didn’t enjoy it? He trusted Arnold and Washington to read the situation as well as they could, but….

“Come here and take what’s coming to you,” Arnold ordered, taking a seat on Washington’s bed as if he owned it and rolling up his right shirtsleeve.

Ben darted a quick look back to Washington.

Arnold snorted. “He won’t save you, Benjamin. For the last time, come here.”

Ben started forward, heart hammering and mouth dry in anticipation, only to be stopped by Washington’s hand on his shoulder. “Benedict. Are you certain about this?” 

Washington wasn’t going so far as to order Arnold not to take him over his knee, but was making his doubt known just the same. 

Arnold had accepted a limited degree of discretion when it came to Ben. Ben looked down, uncertain of whether he wanted Washington’s objection to sway Arnold or not. The fabric strained against his breeches at the thought of being taken over Arnold’s knee, but he relished Washington’s attempt to protect him. Arnold would make him hurt.

If anything, Washington’s intervention strengthened Arnold’s resolve. “You spoil him, George. He’s had this coming for a long time. Comes and goes without a ‘by-your-leave,’ picks and chooses which orders he wants to obey—honestly, Tallmadge, do you roll dice to decide—“

“You’re one to talk about orders, sir!” Ben broke in, unable to help himself and ignoring Washington’s warning squeeze on the shoulder. “Did you retreat when General Gates ordered you to? No, and thank the Lord!”

Ben had expected shouting. Shouting about Ben’s impertinence or, worse, mood-ruining (though true), shouting about General Gates. Instead, Arnold smiled, eyes dark and triumphant. “Thank you for proving my point. I’m going to enjoy teaching you to show proper respect for your superior officers. Now. If you’re not over here within the minute, you’re getting the strap.”

Ben’s breathing quickened and his backside tingled. God, the strap….

Washington looked like he was about to object, moving forward to argue with Arnold while keeping Ben behind him.

This time, Ben put his hand on Washington’s shoulder. “Thank you, sir, but I can take it. I don’t regret what I’ve said and done, but I do deserve it.”

“You see, George, even the boy knows he needs to be taken in hand. And Tallmadge—you will regret it by the time I’m through with you, I can promise you that.”

Ben shivered.

Washington looked between Ben and Arnold. Both men’s eyes were bright with excitement and determination. 

He nodded minutely, then cupped the back of Ben’s head and brought him in for a gentle kiss.

“Thirty seconds, and he’s getting the strap,” Arnold warned from the bed. 

Washington withdrew his lips from Ben’s, but kept his hold on him and brought their foreheads together. “I’ll be right next to you, Ben, and if you want to stop at any point, just say the word. Do you understand?”

Ben nodded, strengthened by Washington’s care for him, and pulled him back in for another kiss.

“How touching. Fifteen seconds” Arnold reminded them.

Ben broke away, eyes bright and lips puffy, and walked over to Arnold on legs that tried not to shake. 

Arnold took in the glassy-eyed state of him and decided to make his own mark on those lips, pulling Ben down onto his knees and then in for a kiss that served as a precursor to the punishment he was about to inflict. It was bruising and merciless, but Ben gave as well as he received, nipping a plump section of Arnold’s lip and pushing into the kiss rather than being driven back. 

When it ended, Arnold, Ben, and Washington, who had been observing, were all breathing heavily. Arnold leaned his forehead against Ben’s and looked into his eyes, which had darkened to the deepest blue and were regarding him with a heady mix of trust and fear and, thankfully, longing. 

Arnold cleared his throat, but didn’t move. “Are you ready?” he asked, voice surely gentler than he had intended it to be. 

Ben blinked, but nodded against him. 

Arnold drew back, then pulled Ben up to stand between his legs.

Ben’s hands went to take down his breeches, but Arnold smacked them away. “The only thing you have to do now is take what I give you,” he said, and made quick work of baring Ben, who was so hard he didn’t know how he would last two seconds over Arnold’s knee without release. 

Arnold, the sadist, didn’t even touch Ben’s cock, but looked down, smiled, and said “after,” before snaking an arm around Ben’s waist and tugging him over his knee. 

He took his time positioning Ben, shifting him so that his bottom was well presented without his hipbones digging into Arnold’s legs, then ran an admiring hand across Ben’s bottom and down his thighs, frowning when he saw that Ben’s boots were still on.

Arnold turned to Washington, who had taken a seat on the bed and was already stroking Ben’s hair. “George, would you mind removing his boots? I can tell he’s going to kick, and if he kicks me with those on I’ll give him a whipping as soon as he’s done over my knee.”

Washington gave Arnold a look, but gently shifted Ben’s head off of his lap and complied, pausing to examine the picture Arnold and Ben presented on his way back to the bed. 

Ben with legs trapped under Arnold’s, ass up and waiting for whatever Arnold wanted to do to it. Arnold, one hand resting on Ben’s bottom as though he owned it, the other on his back, ready to comfort or restrain. It was a beautiful sight, he had to admit, though he was still uncertain about introducing this type of pain to their dynamic quite so soon—and about the wisdom of their dynamic in the first place.

Ben, however, seemed to no longer have any such qualms and was testing the limits of Arnold’s restraint by squirming.

Arnold’s grin could be heard in his voice even as his arms tightened around Ben. “Settle down, boy. We’ll get started as soon as George’s got you.”

Washington settled himself so that his head was close to Ben’s. He wanted to be able to be able to kiss as well as stroke, to swallow any pain and monitor Ben’s progress. 

Washington knew the stubborn set to Ben’s jaw very well and had seen it already this evening. Ben would not want to disappoint Arnold, himself, or Washington and would likely not opt out even when he’d had enough. Washington would make sure that he did, even if Arnold didn’t.

Ben was smiling reassuringly at Washington when the first slap came and almost knocked the breath out of him. He didn’t open his eyes again until the rhythm of Arnold’s slaps became a bit more predictable and he didn’t fear showing too much of his pain.

It still hurt after the first few slaps; his entire body felt suffused with heat. However, either Arnold had modified his force after the opening salvo or his body had become used to the treatment, because it had started to feel delicious, the majority of the heat shooting straight to his cock.

Perhaps the pleasantness was also due to Washington wiping his brow and drawing him into kisses when he gasped, kisses that took his breath away more than the pain could.

Arnold, sensing that he didn’t have Ben’s full attention, started spacing out the slaps into a less predictable rhythm and increased the force when he thought Ben could stand it. He also started to lecture. “Have I got your attention, Tallmadge? You will learn to obey me even if I have to do this every day. It can become a routine part of His Excellency’s schedule, I’m sure.” Ben’s response to the increased force was to try to kick, as Arnold had predicted he would. Arnold merely slapped his thighs. “You know enough by now to know that I require a verbal answer.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben breathed. 

“Yes, sir, you’ll obey me?”

“No, sir,” Ben started, only to be rewarded by an almighty smack that made Washington wince with him. “I…no. I’ll obey to the extent that my conscience permits, but I will never blindly follow orders. You might as well add this to the daily schedule.”

“Brave boy,” Arnold whispered, and then continued in his usual commanding tones, “But alas, I cannot guarantee that there will be time to put you over my knee every day, so I will have to make this count.”

And with that, he tipped Ben further forward and began to slap the underside of Ben’s bottom at full force.

Ben couldn’t help but shout his distress, much as he relished the pain that drowned out his daily concerns about his spy ring, his men, and the progress of the war.

Washington stroked Ben’s hair through the next several slaps and kissed him hard to prevent him from biting his lip bloody. From his position, he couldn’t tell whether Ben was still hard. Even if he was, this needed to end soon. The giddiness of having a fantasy realized could lead the boy to take more than was advisable, and he knew Arnold would regret it if he took Ben past his limits. 

After the next particularly hard slap forced a pained moan from Ben, Washington soothed Ben while fixing Arnold with his gaze. “Shhh, Ben. I know, but it will be over soon.”

Arnold quirked a brow at what was clearly an order, unorthodox though its delivery was. “Will it?” he asked Washington, giving Ben another almighty smack. 

Ben yelped, bucked, and sniffed hard, clearly trying to hold back tears. Well, that was almost answer enough.

Arnold paused, surveying the bottom before him. It was a dull red, with patches that could very well bruise. Ben’s cock was still hard against his leg, which was why he’d felt confidant about continuing. If Ben was near sobbing, though, it was time to end this. It was, after all, the boy’s first time, and he wouldn’t push him too far. 

“Two more, and they’ll count,” he warned, drawing his arm back delivering two more blows at full strength, making Ben arch and buck before going limp.

Arnold shook his burning hand out—he was sure it would be bruised-- and watched Washington comfort Ben, tenderly wiping sweat and…tears? from his face, kissing his brow, and running his fingers through Ben’s hair, massaging his scalp and the nape of his neck and telling him all the while how proud he was.

Ben needed to be held and reassured even though he had enjoyed it, Arnold knew, and he couldn’t have given Ben that comfort during the spanking even if he’d been inclined to. But now…it should be Arnold soothing Ben. If Ben would have him after what Arnold had inflicted on him. 

Arnold shifted so that Ben’s legs were no longer trapped by his, and stroked Ben’s back for a time, waiting for Washington to finish his ministrations. Surely Washington knew enough about these types of things to realize that Ben would likely need comfort from the man who had done this to him, even if he found it hard to face the one who had enjoyed giving him pain? 

Apparently Washington did not. After a time spent rubbing Ben’s back, Arnold had had enough of watching Ben melt into Washington’s embrace. “Give him to me, George,” he said, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his need to offer primary comfort--or any of his doubts about how Ben would receive him.

Washington pulled back, scrutinizing Arnold, then whispered something to Ben and helped right him so that he was sitting on Arnold’s lap with pressure off of his bottom. 

Ben held himself rigidly against Arnold and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hide evidence of his tears.

Arnold grasped Ben’s chin, hand still warm from having spanked him, and forced Ben to meet his eyes.

Arnold understood at once why Washington had spent so long comforting him. Ben’s eyes, still brimming over, regarded him from underneath long eyelashes clumped together by tears, demanding all the kissing and soothing and massaging he had in him. 

But first he needed to see where they stood, whether Ben would indeed welcome his comfort when he already had Washington’s. “I hurt you,” Arnold said steadily, holding Ben’s gaze.

Ben nodded. 

“I was a little cruel to you, ” Arnold allowed, swiping a finger over one of Ben’s tear tracks.

Ben looked surprised, but his embarrassment diminished and he nodded again. 

“Yes. But I enjoyed it, sir,” he confessed. 

“Oh, I know. You were hard almost all the way through.”

Ben looked even more surprised, and blushed. “You noticed?”

Arnold couldn’t resist pulling him in for a kiss. “Of course. This was for pleasure, after all. Speaking of which, do you want me to make you feel better?”

Ben’s eyes sparkled and he nodded, relaxing against Arnold before suddenly sitting up again. “Sir…I know that this was for pleasure….I can’t help but wonder what punishment would feel like.”

Arnold sighed, stroking Ben’s back and snuggling him more securely against him. “You’ve had enough, Ben.”

Ben did not argue, but Arnold could feel the tension in his body. Curiously, it was Washington who spoke in favor of a demonstration.

“The worry will eat away at him if you don’t show him, Benedict,” Washington said with some sympathy as he rose and fished a razor strap out of his trunk.

Arnold shut his eyes, relishing the feeling of Ben’s head under his chin and the warmth of Ben’s body against his. He just didn’t want to do this, not now. He wanted to comfort Ben and help him find release, to reassure himself that what he had done had been desired. 

But Washington was right. And Arnold didn’t want Ben to do something to warrant a full punishment just to see what it was like. Ben did tend to be eager to please and likely wouldn’t do anything very serious just to ensure that result, but he also knew how to push Arnold’s buttons just enough when he wished. Very well.

Arnold kissed Ben’s forehead. “Up, then, and bend over the bed, all the way down, but keep your ass lifted.”

Ben stood, eyes widening when Washington passed the strap to Arnold, then assumed the position, already abused bottom high. 

Washington once again took position near Ben’s head, but limited himself to offering a hand to hold, as this was “punishment.” 

Arnold gave Ben two of the best extremely hard in the hopes that this would be a deterrent to misbehavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to draw it out and swung as fast as he could, wanting to get it over with. 

Ben muffled his scream in the blanket and shook, certain that his skin was broken and wanting nothing more than to be held by and to hold Arnold and Washington.

Arnold dropped the strap and climbed onto the bed, pulling Ben into his arms so that he was sandwiched between Arnold and Washington. 

For a time, touch spoke for all of them. 

Then Ben broke in, tentatively. “Sir…I…think I’m bleeding and don’t want to make a mess. Should I—“

“Christ, Ben, I’ve not broken the skin. You have two mighty welts, but I’d not make you bleed.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ And I’d prefer not to do that again any time soon, though I will if I must,” Arnold said briskly. “Now, are you going to seriously misbehave any time soon?

“I hope not,” Ben shuddered.

“Me too,” Arnold and Washington said, almost simultaneously. 

“Well, I suppose that’s the best we can hope for. Now let’s make you feel better,” Arnold said, wanting to put the memory of Ben's scream out of his head as fast as possible. It was going to be very difficult to punish this one if he had to. 

And with that, Washington reached down for a tin he had stashed under the bed and started to spread a healing but tingly herbal salve on Ben’s bottom while Arnold kissed him, hard and possessive and stroked his cock to full hardness again. 

Once Arnold had brought Ben to a frustrating degree of hardness, he paused to consult with Washington, one hand on Ben’s cock.

“Do you think he could stand to have either of us inside him?”

“Yes!” Ben said at the same time as Washington commented that he believed so.

Arnold nipped Ben’s lower lip. “I wasn’t asking you. You’re not the best judge of what you can take right now, and I’ll not have you injured or howling in pain on either of our cocks,” he said gently but firmly to the increasingly desperate Ben. “That said, I would welcome the opportunity to make you howl in another way. And now I am asking you. Do you want me or George inside you?”

Ben blinked up at Arnold through his lashes. “Both, sir, but I don’t think either of you would allow that.”

Washington snorted and Arnold smiled. “You are learning,” he said, giving Ben’s cock a squeeze. 

“I….would you kiss me while he’s inside me? I know there will be some pain,” Ben said. 

Arnold nodded, surprised and touched. He wasn’t surprised that Ben wanted Washington. Washington had been Ben’s first and knew Ben’s body better than Ben himself did sometimes. After a physically and emotionally exhausting session, it also made some sense that Ben wanted the man who hadn’t just beaten him inside him. 

But it was surprising that Ben wanted Arnold to comfort him through the initial discomfort. He had anticipated stroking Ben off, or watching from the sidelines. This would be interesting, and he hoped that he didn’t somehow become so enamored of comforting Ben that he was no longer able to discipline him for play or in earnest. It was bad enough that it looked like Washington would be content to leave all but the occasional punishment to him. 

Washington stood, cock visibly straining against his breeches, but he wasn’t making any moves to remove his clothing just yet. “I must wash this salve from my hands…while Ben may want to feel its tingling effects internally in time, we have done enough to stimulate him already. Would you prepare him for me?” he asked as he passed Arnold a tin of non-herbal grease.

Arnold nodded, throat dry at the thought of being in that delectable bottom in some form. 

He wanted to see the work he was doing, which meant Ben should either bend over the bed or over his knee. He wanted as much physical contact as possible with Ben, so he patted his knee.

Ben raised a brow at the idea of returning to that position, but bent over willingly enough. The boy’s welts were still raised and angry looking; the rest of his bottom didn’t look much better, red as it was. Arnold winced, even as he felt a sense of pride that the boy carried his marks.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmured, running an oiled finger down Ben’s crease. 

Ben obeyed, and soon found himself moaning and bucking over Arnold’s knee again, this time entirely in pleasure. 

Arnold had gotten Ben stretched to two fingers when Washington returned. Both men’s breathing was rough and their faces were flushed with pleasure. Washington felt his breeches get impossibly tighter at the sight of Arnold’s fingers buried in Ben’s bottom. It was impossibly obscene, and he knew he needed to be a part of it that very instant.

Washington got closer, observing Ben’s reactions, then slicked up one of his fingers. 

“I think he’s ready for three, would you agree?” he asked Arnold.

Arnold nodded while Ben squirmed in excited embarrassment at being discussed like this while so exposed.

Arnold pulled his fingers most of the way out and Washington joined his finger to Arnold’s, pushing in slowly, both men sighing when Ben’s muscles gave in, accepting them. 

One of their fingers touched Ben’s sweet spot and he stiffened, panting, and begged to come. 

Washington spoke first. “Not yet, my boy,” he said quietly but firmly. “You’ll wait until I tell you, do you understand?” he asked crooking a finger inside Ben.

“Yes…..sir,” Ben moaned, eyes squeezing shut. 

Arnold privately thought Washington’s orders here were more cruel than anything he had done to Ben, but it seemed to work for the two of them. 

Arnold and Washington continued to work in tandem, pulling their fingers almost all the way out, only to plunge them back in, sometimes hard and fast and sometimes slowly and gently. 

By the time Arnold was ready to take Ben if Washington wouldn’t, Washington withdrew and began undoing his breeches, his fumbling fingers the only sign of his own sense of urgency.

Washington slicked himself copiously, but with great speed, and was ready at Ben’s entrance before Arnold had even withdrawn his fingers. 

Arnold eased out, holding Ben open a little for Washington as he eased in and Ben shuddered and rocked back impatiently, taking too much too soon. Arnold was ready to swat him, but Washington gripped Ben by his braid and gave it a gentle pull that made him hiss nonethless, telling him “no” in a way that made him still immediately.

Seeing as Washington appeared to have Ben in hand, Arnold moved to kiss Ben and watch his response to being taken. It was indeed glorious to be able to observe this. Perhaps there was something to sharing, after all.

Ben was biting his lip and moaning, eyes closed and hands fisting the blankets, when Arnold took his hands. 

Ben squeezed the offered hands tight, making Arnold wonder whether he’d gripped Washington’s as tightly while being spanked. They’d have to compare notes, later. 

“Open your eyes, Ben,” Arnold ordered, and couldn’t help gasping at how dilated Ben’s pupils were. 

Ben smiled, squeezing Arnold’s hands in time with Washington’s thrusts, only wincing a little when Washington’s increased speed and force made him brush against his sore bottom. 

Arnold kissed Ben through it, relishing the feeling of Ben gasping against his lips, feeling the reverberations of his moans. While he desperately wanted to be inside Ben, this was addictive in and of itself. 

Washington made sure that Ben felt thoroughly taken care of, but mercifully did not draw things out too long out of consideration for the state of Ben’s bottom and both of their needs. Arnold, at Washington’s request, stroked Ben off to the rhythm of Washington’s thrusts, and kissed him though his release while Washington kissed the back of Ben’s neck as he came.

Arnold’s throat tightened at the bliss on both Ben and Washington’s faces. He’d never seen his commander so at peace, or Ben so relaxed. The smile on the boy’s face made it impossible not to smile back, to revel in their release even though he had not yet achieved his own.

It did not take them long to notice. After Washington pulled out of Ben and kissed his way down his spine to his red bottom, Ben scooted forward and asked permission to undo Arnold’s breeches. 

Arnold gasped as the cloth brushed his cock on its way off, worried he would embarrass himself in front of the boy and their commander with how ready he was for release.

Ben bent to take Arnold in his mouth, but Arnold stopped him with a gentle pull on his braid.

“I’m sure Washington has been teaching you well, but when you suck me off, I’ll want it to last and I haven’t the patience this night. Please give me your hand.”

Ben raised a brow, but followed orders without questioning for once. He had just gotten into a lovely rhythm when Washington’s large hand closed over Ben’s, guiding him with his thumb brushing the base of Arnold’s cock. 

The two of them made it last longer than Arnold thought possible. He had thought the sight of both of their hands on him would make him spill, but Washington was teaching Ben where to touch in order to draw things out, and draw them out they did. 

Just when Arnold was ready to threaten Ben with another spanking and Washington with not being allowed to hold him during said spanking, they let him come, Ben licking his own hand clean before suckling on Washington’s in a way that almost made Arnold hard again immediately. 

Arnold drew Ben into a kiss, and was unsurprised when Ben yawned against him. They had put him through quite a lot.

“It’s all right, Ben, you’re just coming down” Arnold reassured an embarrassed Ben. “Let’s get this one under the covers,” he said to Washington. “I assume he has night things here?”

Washington raised a brow, but nodded and went to get Ben’s nightshirt. 

“I’d prefer to keep you naked,” Arnold told Ben. “But you’re likely feeling a little chilled?”

Ben nodded sleepily against Arnold’s shoulder, eyes closed. Arnold laughed. “Not yet. Raise your arms for your shirt,” he instructed as Washington made ready to dress Ben.

Arnold couldn’t help yawning himself as they readied Ben for bed. “You’ll want to make sure he’s warm, and in physical contact with you,” Arnold instructed Washington sleepily. “Make sure he has plenty to drink, and send for me if he’s upset and you’re not certain what to do.”

Washington bore these instructions patiently, but spoke when Arnold made ready to leave the bed after one last kiss to Ben’s head. 

“General. I believe we have room for you here, tonight. Is that not correct, Ben?”

“Yes,” Ben smiled. “And General Arnold can put more salve on me in the night.”

Arnold grinned. “Or General Arnold can make doubly certain you sleep on your stomach for an entire week, Major.”

Ben, damn him, looked serenely untroubled by this threat, embraced by Washington’s arms as he was. 

“Men. Go to sleep,” Washington ordered. 

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Ben and Arnold said, and all of them drifted off, surprised by how well they fit.


End file.
